Joy of a Tire Swing

When I close my eyes to remember our day at the farm I am overwhelmed by the memory of a grin so wide, the overlarge front teeth glow like neon. Not a Cheshire cat grin but a free and open expression of joy. My older son on the "horse" tire swing; a match made in heaven. Just a day after I had pooh-poohed tire swings as a metaphor for prayer I came face-to-face with three of the best old-fashioned tree swings I had ever seen. Turns out they're a great metaphor for childhood.

Like hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other Denverites I read an article about Sunflower Farm a few weeks ago (http://www.sunflowerfarminfo.com/) and with many of my fellow readers we jaunted farm-ward last Saturday. The parking lot was nearly full by 10:30 am, despite ongoing blustery winds, and an attendant noted the increase was due to their exposure in the Denver Post. A guest asked when they closed the gates and the man said, "Well, we try not to do that. It's hard to decide where to draw the line, you know?" I knew right away that this would be a great place. My kids were already convinced; on the way in we saw a pond for water squirters, a tree fort and rope bridge, swings, animals, tractors, and a hay bale maze.

My older two children, ages seven and eight, were in their element. Not afraid of any climbing, jumping or swinging feat, they were entranced by the novel fun into forgetting their "mature" age and the presence of countless toddlers. My four-year-old loved the activities, too, though he was a bit intimidated by the height of the tree house and the teeth of the goat, he was determined to follow his siblings and not be left behind. My husband and I were struck by the number of toddlers at the farm who were too young, we felt, to really do anything! And yet, seven or eight years ago we were among the hordes of new parents eagerly embracing all the child-friendly experiences we could find for our little one. What happened between then and now to make this farm visit such a rarity?

I think as the children grew we were entranced by each new stage and accomplishment, enticed forward by T ball and soccer, swimming and skiing. The children shed their ripped and dirty "civvies" at ages 4 and 5 and moved into the ranks of uniform-clad and practice-attending teammates. Weekends were taken up with scheduled games and chores in the yard. I use the past tense because my children have already tried and given up several team sports, not so much 'burned out' as turned off by the regimentation. They still want the loose freedom of exploration and new experiences. Last Saturday, as we watched them cavort on the tire swing and through the corn house we were struck by how perfect the farm is for our 'older' children; they plumbed the depths of its offerings far more than they had as toddlers. We had more fun, as well; after a delightful picnic on the grass we headed back for more activities while the families of little ones headed for the minivan - for a nap and home.

The kids took turns on the tire swing many times. My husband gave them a great big push, and they would soar off into the sky - the length of the chain providing for wonderful height - then rush back toward us on the ground, beaming and wielding a thumbs-up sign. Then off to the heights again, where I could only marvel at their lack of fear and their joy, growing so fast but still so young. Someday, after a great push, they'll soar off for real, and I can only hope they occasionally come back. For now, we'll practice on the tire swing.